


Montage

by Amelia_Clark



Series: Good Books, Bad Movies [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety Attacks, BDSM, Bookstores, Comeplay, Dean Hates Flying, Dirty Talk, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Presents, Rimming, STIs, Schmoop, Spanking, Valentine's Day, airports are the worst, babies are the best, ish, mild homophobia, pdas, real talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-02-21 08:24:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2461451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelia_Clark/pseuds/Amelia_Clark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas and Dean plan to move in together in June. But it's only January...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> FYI: the first two "chapters" of this one are self-contained fics, followed by a five-chapter story. Which was poor planning on my part, and I'm sorry!

Mid-afternoon the Wednesday after Dean’s birthday, and Cas really did not want to make this call. "Fucking responsible adulthood," he muttered under his breath while Dean's phone rang on the other end.

"Hey baby! Miss you," came Dean's eager voice. "I'm still at work, though, so don't try anything funny. What's up?"

"Uh," said Cas. _Brilliant._ He wasn't going to think of a graceful way to say this, so he might as well be awkward: "Dean, I have chlamydia. So you probably do too."

A long, excruciating pause. Then: "Oh. OK. Huh," Dean said before lapsing into silence again.

Terrified, Cas said in a rush: "Dean, I'm so sorry, I didn’t know, I swear, I’ve never shown any symptoms. I’m on antibiotics for a week, you should do the same so we don’t end up passing it back and forth.” He sighed, heavy and resigned “Fuck, Dean, I feel like such a careless asshole. Like I don't deserve to ever touch you again." _Stop talking, Castiel, you fucking idiot._ "I'll understand if you think so."

"Cas, back the fuck up, man. Let me get off the floor." Cas stilled, picking at a thread on his pants while he listened to Dean breathe, the sound of his office door pull closed. “Look,” Dean said after a minute, “look, I’m not saying it’s nothing, Cas, but it’s not…well, it’s not a huge deal, actually? For dudes at least. I had it before once, in college, it’s not great, but it happens. I’m not going to fucking _break up_ with you over it, OK?” He laughed. “For fuck’s sake, we’ve never used condoms with oral, and I blew you the night we met. We weren’t exactly getting an A in sex ed 101 anyway.”

“No, I suppose not.” Cas plucked the thread out, viciously. “But I’m the one who’s—who’s _diseased,_ Dean. This is on me. You should be angry.”

“But I’m not, so, you know, don’t tell me how to feel. Everything else is clear, yeah?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then we’re good. Well, I’ll hit up the clinic for meds, _then_ we’ll be good. And hey, look on the bright side, we can skip the condoms from now on.”

“Dean,” Cas said, awestruck. “How are you doing this? Being so—sweet and logical at the same time.”

“I don’t know, lithium? And the love of a good man.” Dean’s voice dropped to its sultriest range. “A good man who’s gonna leave me fucked out and full of come next time he sees me.”

It took Cas a shocked second to answer. "Holy shit, Dean, that is by far the filthiest thing anybody's ever said to me."

"Yeah, I'm a little scandalized myself. At work, no less."

"Naughty indeed. I think you're going to need some discipline." Cas knew he was blushing; he was still flustered by the whole concept of phone sex, dominant as he was in person. 

Dean groaned. "Oh God, I'm off in an hour, baby, _please_ stay in this mood for me."

"I'll, uh, have to delay some phone calls, then. I don't think my other...partners will be quite so understanding. Which would certainly dampen my ardor."

"Oh, yeah, that might not be fun. You gotta do it, though."

"I know. Not looking forward to digging up numbers. And there’s at least one person whose name I never caught, so that makes me feel ever so responsible.”

“Dude, sex isn’t a fender bender, you don’t have to exchange information. Just reach out to who you can. I’ll make sure you’re plenty relaxed.”

They rung off with “I love you” (Dean’s whispered but distinct), and Cas sat staring at the wall, marveling over how well that potential minefield of a conversation had gone. Too bad it wasn’t the only awkward talk he needed to have—and while he agreed with Dean that a rousing orgasm would probably calm his nerves, there was at least some groundwork he could do before then.

He pulled up a text to Meg: **Hey, do you remember that Harper editor I disappeared with during that BEA party last year? Do you happen to have his cell number?**

*******

Dean was on the phone before his apartment door clicked shut, having spent the rest of his shift at a low boil. Cas picked up on the second ring. "Hello, Dean. Still in the mood?"

"Bet your ass I am, baby. Where are you? In bed?"

"No, I'm on the couch. Where are you?"

"Just got home. Gimme a minute, gonna take off my pants." He leaned against the kitchen counter and undid his belt, rattling the buckle so the sound would carry. "That is, unless you'd prefer I do something else?"

"Ah, you want me to take the reins? I should have guessed." Cas paused; Dean picked at the top button of his jeans but didn't undo it. "All right,” Cas continued, “I'd like to keep your pants on for now, I believe, but take off your shirt. Put me on speaker and get on the bed."

“Yessir,” Dean said, only half joking. He’d been trying to wheedle Cas into this for a while—it didn’t make sense that he was always down for ordering him around in person but so weirdly shy on the phone. Then again, Dean had gone through several months on the wrong meds when the thought of calling for a pizza made him go fetal with anxiety, so he was hardly one to talk. He obeyed, then prompted: “OK, ready.”

"Let me think," said Cas. There was rustling on his end; Dean wanted to ask what he was wearing, but refrained. "Run your fingers over your lower lip, slowly. Then across your cheek, along your jaw. It's my hand, I'm looking into your eyes."

Dean did as he asked, picturing Cas there, stretched out next to him. He whimpered as he stroked his face. "I'm looking back. Your eyes are so blue. They're like--they're like the sky, there's blue, there's gray. They change when you look at me."

"Yes. Because I love you. You're the only thing I see, Dean, everything else blurs when you're there, it's only a wash of color. Unimportant. Run your hand down your neck. Now it's my mouth, just the tip of my tongue, barely wet. Do you feel it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Dean rested his hand on his collarbone, wishing he could just grab hold of his thickening cock and go to town. _Wait for it, you want this._ He held his breath for the next command.

"Touch your chest now. Pinch at your nipples, like I'm biting them. You like that, don't you?" Cas's voice was growing gruff, and his excitement washed over Dean, turning him on even more.

"Yeah, I fucking love it. Love your teeth on me, like you can't get enough. Like you're gonna just eat me up."

"I didn't think I'd like it so much, biting you and marking you up, but God, Dean, the way you want, it's overwhelming."

"Want you, Cas. Fuck, why aren't you here?" Both of Dean's hands were roaming over his torso, his touches sometimes light, sometimes grasping, tracing his own ribs with something like reverence. He tried to conjure up the sense-memory of Cas's hands on him, how they made him feel. Like he was real, like he mattered. Yeah, he was getting hard, but he also felt warm and safe—as much as he could not actually in Cas's arms.

“I wish I was. You’re so beautiful, Dean, sprawled out and blissful. Tell me you know how beautiful you are.”

“Even though it’s not true?”

“Yes. Someday it will be, Dean. Someday you’ll believe it, and I intend to be there with you when you do.”

Dean exhaled. “I’m beautiful,” he said. “I know it. OK, I said it, let me touch my cock now? Please?”

“Hmm, all right. Through your pants. Are you wearing jeans?”

“Yeah. Oh God, thank you,” Dean said, moving his hand over his waistband and pushing up into it with a groan. “You wearing leather?”

“I was. I took my clothes off before I called.”

“Leather pants just lounging around the house. You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Dean said.

“Mmm, you love it. Still haven’t gotten around to getting those clean, the ones I was wearing when I first made you come. Remember that?”

“Fuck, yeah I do. So good, baby. Didn’t think I’d ever see you again, thought it’d be the only time. I got lucky.” Dean was fully hard now under his palm, cock straining against denim. “You’re naked?”

“Yes. I’m so hard, Dean, listening to you, the way your breath hitches when you touch yourself.”

“Thanks for letting me. My jeans are getting tight, can I take them off yet?”

“If I were there, I’d tease you, but I’m not there to do it. So yes, take them off. Grab your hipbones for me, I love them.”

Dean did as he was told, moaning at the relief as his erection sprang free and taking firm hold of the jut of his hips. “I like it when you chew on ‘em.”

“Me too. Fuck, Dean, I can’t keep this up, I’m starting to lose words.”

“’S the problem with phone sex, talking gives out just when it gets good. You, uh, jacking yourself?”

Cas made a noise that was nothing like a ‘yes,’ but impossible to interpret as anything else. “Dean, do it, come on, touch yourself—I’m going to slow down, I want you to come first so I can hear.”

“You will,” panted Dean, “oh God, baby, feels so good.” Wrapping his hand around his cock, he pumped fast and hard; he was so worked up it didn’t take him long to come, and he cried out nice and loud for Cas’s benefit. “Whew,” he said after a spent moment. “I’m a mess.”

“I’ll bet you are. Can you do something for me?” Cas asked, voice hoarse with lust.

“Mmm, as long as it doesn’t involve standing up.”

“No, stay where you are.” Dean heard him take a shaky breath. “I want you to get as much come on your fingers as you can, Dean. And then work your ass with them. Like I’ve just fucked you hard and come, filled you up.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “OK,” he managed to say, and soon enough his knees were hiked up high, a come-smeared finger sliding inside. A thought struck him, and he flailed for the phone with his other hand to send Cas a picture; he grinned at the whimpered response, the slap of Cas’s hand moving on his cock.

“Fuck, Dean, you look so fucking debauched,” Cas gasped. And then he was groaning out his orgasm, Dean’s name lost somewhere in the sound. “Thank you, I needed that,” he said, still out of breath.

“Yeah, that was great. You’ve gotten way better at this, Cas.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Ha, thanks. Hate to fuck and run, but I gotta clean up, find some food. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Always. I love you, Dean.”

“Me too, Cas. I mean I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: chlamydia can be a far bigger deal for those possessing a uterus; untreated, it can lead to sterility. Be safe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just posting ALL THE FIC this week, huh? Uh...don't get used to it.

Dean spent money he didn't have on a Valentine's gift for Cas: a box of fancy chocolates, lavender caramels and champagne ganache, nestled like jewels in their crinkly wrappers. It's not enough, of course, but then nothing would be—and hell, if they're gonna get together for this bullshit holiday, he might as well embrace the cliche, right? So he went traditional, and the candy sat on his desk all morning with a frowny Post-It to deter sampling. He kept glancing at it, feeling the pang of its inadequacy, trying to counter it with the knowledge that Cas didn't give a fuck about a present, had in fact assured Dean multiple times he didn't expect one. But as always, there was a part of him that wouldn't listen, that told him instead that he was nothing but a taker, feeding on Cas's love like a tick getting fat on blood. "Shut up," he said out loud to the room, and pictured himself stuffing the nagging voice into a garbage disposal, flipping the switch to watch it grind away. He’d picked up the technique a few years back from a therapist Sam paid for; it didn't always work, but today was on his side, and he felt instantly better.

Which was good, because there was a knock at his door. “Come in,” he called, shoving his reading glasses up onto his head.

He needn’t have bothered, as it turned out, because it was Cas, weary-eyed but grinning toothily. “Hello, Dean,” he said.

“Hey, tiger! You’re early!” Dean pushed his chair out from the desk and spun to face him with an answering smile. “Thought you were getting in late afternoon, it’s barely lunchtime.”

Cas shrugged. “I woke up at four and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I figured why wait to see you? I missed you.” Across the room in seconds, he threw a leg over Dean and lowered to straddle him, ignoring the chair’s creak of protest as he bent to crash their mouths together.

Dean kissed back feverishly, burrowed hands beneath his shirt to touch his skin; Cas’s fingers tangled in his hair and sent the glasses tumbling to the floor. Cas rolled his hips, Dean followed suit, and they were well on their way to third base when the door was flung open again.

“I knew it!” Charlie cried. “For fuck’s sake, you two, I’m gonna invest in a firehose if you keep this up. I’m happy you’re ass over teakettle about each other, really I am, but I _work_ here. Keep it PG.”

Dismounting, Cas shot her a sheepish look. “I’m sorry. We’ll take it elsewhere. Or—you still have work to do, right, Dean? I guess I can take your keys and hang out in your apartment for a while?”

Charlie rolled her eyes heavenward. “Ugh, whatever, just because I’m languishing in spinsterhood on Valentine’s, I’m not gonna keep you two lovebirds apart. Especially since Dean’ll be all mopey and useless if he knows you’re nearby and not actually chewing on his face. Go, go, I got this.”

“You’re a goddess,” said Dean, bouncing up to gather his stuff; he slid the box of chocolates into his bag, hoping Cas hadn’t noticed it.

“Never forget it,” Charlie said. She rapped her knuckles on the door. “Leave this open till you leave.”

*******

Cas had brought a small wheeled suitcase instead of his usual duffel, and it jounced up the stairs behind them as they climbed. He had a spectacular view of Dean's ass and a tight grip on his hand, even though it made things a little awkward being dragged along behind; Dean's pace was brisk, and Cas's mouth was dry with anticipation, knowing they'd fall on each other as soon as they were alone. He wondered idly if Dean remembered his spanking suggestion. 

"Dean," he said as the door swung closed, "what would you think of—mmmmph!" Dean kissed the words right out of his mouth, tongue sliding deep while he cupped Cas's jaw in both hands. Cas melted into him, pushed him towards the bed with halting steps--he was breathless and wild-eyed when Dean pulled away too soon.

"I got you a present," said Dean.

"But I told you not to! Dean, you've better things to spend your money on than me."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, Cas. Can't think of anything better."

"Medication."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, be literal. Come on, you can't tell someone not to get you a present, that misses the whole point of presents." He set his bag on the bed and pulled out a shallow box. "Ta-da! Sweets for the sweet! No, forget I said that. Please."

"I will, I promise." Lifting the lid, Cas let out an involuntary moan at the sight of the confections. "Oh my God, Dean, these look amazing. Can we eat them for dinner?"

"Uh, OK, why not. Wow, chocolates are your thing, huh?"

"You don't even know. My appreciation for chocolate verges on _Cathy_ levels. Thank you, Dean." Cas pulled him in for a peck. "I got you something too, give me a minute."

He hadn't wanted to get anything too fancy, opting instead for useful (after all, Dean still kept thanking him for the bed): a set of sheets, since Dean had recently complained he only had one. “I’m sorry they’re not wrapped,” he said, holding them out.

“Hey, thanks! I needed these. And I guess sheets are sort of romantic, right?”

"What, I should've gotten you lingerie?" Cas shot back.

"Ha, you jest,” said Dean, raising an eyebrow. “But I had a girlfriend when I was nineteen who was into that, and I did not mind at all. You should’ve seen me, all tricked out in satin panties and a garter belt."

"Nineteen?” Cas groaned as that image flooded his brain. “God, Dean, you're making me feel like a dirty old man just for picturing it."

"But you are picturing it.”

“Fuck, of course I am. Tell me more about this woman, she sounds delightful.”

Dean laughed. “Rhonda Hurley. She was a kinky chick. Actually the first person who ever fucked me up the ass—pulled out a strap-on one night, told me I'd love it, next thing I knew I was on all fours with her growling 'take it bitch' in my ear. Came so hard it got in my eyelashes.”

“Hmm. A high bar to set, but I think I can manage. Come here.” Dean was in his arms in a second, their mouths joining as their hands roamed. Dean tried to steer them towards the bed, but Cas held firm; he had other ideas. "Dean," he mumbled between kisses, "would you still want me to spank you?"

The whimper Dean gave was one Cas knew well by now, an unequivocal yes. "I am so down for that. You wanna, uh, boss me around officially? Dom me, I guess it’s called?"

The mood between them shifted, gone tentative; Cas loosened his grip on Dean’s biceps and settled them lightly on his hips. “I suppose that’s the word for it. I don’t—I’m not comfortable with calling us a dom/sub relationship, are you? I don’t know enough about it.”

Dean sighed with obvious relief. “Yeah, me neither. I tried looking up ‘sub’ on Wikipedia, and just gave up a paragraph in—it was daunting, a lot of vocabulary. I mean, you know I fucking _love_ it when you’re rough, when you throw me around and tell me what to do, but can we just play around without having to read the whole handbook?”

“Yes,” Cas said, also relieved—he hadn’t been quite sure what Dean wanted, but luckily it lined up with his own feelings. “We can do whatever we want, Dean. I like throwing you around too, and if you’d like me to have my way with you right now, I’d be very happy to oblige.”

“Yes, please,” said Dean, and leaned his head to the side, baring his throat. Cas took the invitation and bit down, pulling back to run his tongue over the bite as Dean’s breath quickened.

"You're mine, Dean," Cas said into his ear, running slow fingers down his back. "Say it."

"Yours, Cas. I’m all yours, tell me how you want me."

“I want you naked, for one thing.” Cas’s fingers flew over the buttons of Dean’s shirt while Dean took off his belt; together they had him stripped in less than a minute, and Cas held him at arm’s length, raking a deliberate glance down his body to rest on the slope of his hips, the jut of his cock between them. “You know what you are?”

“Beautiful?” whispered Dean, color rising on his cheeks.

“Yes. So beautiful, inside and out.” Cas dropped his hands, clasping them together to hide their trembling. “I’d like you to bend over the bed. Brace yourself on your elbows, ass in the air.”

Dean followed his orders, and Cas took a moment to enjoy the view: Dean's broad shoulders, his narrow waist, the peaks and valleys of his spine. In this position his gluteal muscles stretched out, leaving just a hint of roundness, and Cas stepped closer to palm that curve, squeezing it while his other hand slid up Dean's thigh, stopping just short of his groin. "I want you to call me Castiel tonight," he said gruffly. "Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, Castiel," Dean said to the mattress.

"That's very good. I'm going to spank you now—it's not a punishment, it's a reward." He swatted Dean's ass with cupped hand, and Dean laughed.

"Weak," he said. "Hardly felt it."

"I'm testing," Cas said. "I don't want to hurt you too much." He tried again, a little harder; Dean shook his head.

“Come on,” said Dean, wiggling his ass, “put some muscle into it. You don’t have those arms for nothing.”

So Cas kept trying, each strike more forceful, until one firm _thwack_ made Dean yelp in satisfaction, left a reddened handprint behind. "That's it," said Dean, pushing back towards him, "that's so good, Castiel. Again."

Cas had never experienced pain as pleasure, and he watched in fascination as Dean writhed and moaned after every blow. When Dean winced away at last, muttering “ouch, enough on that one,” he slapped the other cheek and dropped to his knees, ran his tongue up the back of Dean’s balls and the cleft of his ass. “Oh fuck,” Dean panted, “oh fuck, Casti _elll,”_ and his words disappeared into one continuous whine as Cas spanked him and rimmed him in tandem, licking at the pucker of his hole while the smack of skin on skin rang out.

“Fuck me,” gasped Dean, “fuck me, fuck me,” and Cas slapped him again.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Cas growled, and bit at his thigh. “You can beg.”

_“Please,”_ said Dean, and took it up as a chant, pleading while Cas left him for a moment to find the lube; when Cas first breached him with a slick finger, Dean started repeating his name, just _CastielCastielCastiel,_ and Cas’s legs threatened to give out, his head dizzy with desire.

Cas didn't bother to take off any of his clothes, just shoved his pants to his knees, lined up his cock. At his first thrust Dean stumbled, knee catching on the mattress, and climbed awkwardly onto all fours, Cas standing behind him. Cas gave him one last half-hearted slap and started pounding into him, strong hands on his hips pulling him back onto his cock. “I love you, Dean,” he gasped, “I love being inside you, you’re so tight and perfect, you feel so good around me.”

“Love your cock,” Dean groaned, “love it, come on, please fuck me harder,” and Cas didn’t care anymore if he was supposed to be in charge, fucking Dean harder was exactly what he wanted to do and so he did it. He reached around to touch Dean’s cock and barely made contact before Dean cried out and came, shooting over the bed, hips sagging into Cas’s grip while Cas chased his own orgasm, rising from the base of his spine and sparking white-hot behind his eyelids as he spilled deep inside. 

He collapsed forward onto Dean and they lay in a sweaty mess, Cas’s heart pounding like he’d just run a marathon. “Well done,” he said breathlessly into Dean’s hair.

“Thanks, you too.” Dean laughed. “I’m so glad I can actually change these sheets.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I know I said "self-contained," but this part wanted to be told in chapters, so let's call this "3a." Taking solace in the title--montages are usually discontinuous, right?
> 
> (Also I hadn't updated this in two weeks and I was starting to miss it.)

After months of deflecting the offer, Dean finally let Cas buy him a plane ticket out to California to meet his niece with one condition: that Cas come along. Dean hated flying with the fire of a thousand suns, and he'd thought having Cas with him might soothe his nerves; but now that they were waiting to board at KCI he was a bundle of anxiety, and neither Cas's hand on his nor the Xanax he'd taken were making a dent.

"What if they hate you?" he blurted suddenly.

Cas looked up from his _US Weekly_ (he insisted celebrity gossip was the only appropriate reading material during air travel). "Sam and Jess?"

"Yeah. And the baby. What if the baby starts crying every time you hold her? Hell, what if she starts crying every time _I_ hold her? What if one of us drops her, or there's an earthquake, or the fucking plane crashes before we even get there, or—or—I can't do this, Cas. Let's go back to my place, just stay in bed all week." He was clawing at Cas's thigh, heedless of the attention he was starting to attract from the other passengers.

"Dean," Cas said in what Dean was startled to recognize as the same tone of command he adopted during sex. He put his hand over Dean's on his leg. "Dean, look at me."

And just as he did in bed, Dean obeyed automatically, turning to lock eyes with him. "Can you breathe?" Cas asked, and Dean shook his head, not sure how he'd made it to hyperventilating so quickly. "I'll bet you can. Breathe with me, Dean. Don't look away."

Cas took a deep breath, squeezing his hand, and released it when he breathed out. He held his gaze steady and kept up the pattern—inhale, squeeze, exhale, release—until Dean’s own breath evened out and his shoulders slumped with relief. "Better?"

"Yeah. Sorry. Uh, thank you for not telling me to calm down, that never works. Been reading up on how to have a bipolar boyfriend?"

He meant it as a joke, but Cas flushed and looked guilty. "A little, yes," he said. "I'm sorry."

Dean grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a chaste but forceful kiss. "I love you," he mumbled. "Thank you."

"Of course," said Cas. "I love you too. And I know I can't fix you, but I wanted to find out if there were any small things I can do to help."

"Hope you're OK with talking me down every time the plane hits a bump the whole way to California. I'm a pretty shitty flier."

"I'm on it." Cas took his hand again, and went back to his magazine.

"Excuse me?" came a voice from across the aisle. A woman about their age with a toddler half-asleep on her lap leaned towards them with a frown. "Could you not do that in front of my child?"

It took Dean a second to realize what she meant, and then his face darkened and he said before he thought better of it: "Sure, I'll make you a deal. I'll stop holding my boyfriend's hand when you stop being a fucking bigot."

"Dean," Cas hissed as the woman's jaw dropped and she clamped her hands over the kid's ears, "it's not worth it."

"You really wanna move here?" Dean was still looking daggers at the woman, anxiety turning into anger. "I might live in the queer-friendliest part, but it's still fucking Kansas."

"Dean, I know, it’s frustrating. But getting angry right before you have to fly is only going to make it harder on you." Cas pulled their hands, still joined, over the armrest between them to rest on his knee; he addressed the woman frostily: "Feel free to move if you’d like, but we're not doing anything inappropriate for a public space." 

She tried to stare him down, but Cas just sat there, calmly challenging, and eventually she muttered something nasty under her breath and hauled the kid up onto her lap so he was looking over her shoulder. He was far more fascinated by the planes on the tarmac than the nightmarish spectacle of a two-man couple, and she relaxed a little, though she risked the occasional dirty look until her boarding row was called.

Dean kept a death grip on Cas's hand down the jetway, only dropping it reluctantly when they had to negotiate the narrow aisle and he needed both hands to keep from whacking someone in the head with his carry-on. As soon as they were settled, Cas by the window (pulling down the shade immediately when Dean shot him a terrified look), Dean grabbed for him again. "We should just drive," he said. "Let's get out and drive, we could make it there in 24 hours if we go straight through. We'll sleep in shifts."

"Dean. Honey." The uncharacteristic pet name got Dean's attention. "I love you, and I'm willing to accommodate your emotional issues, but that is the dumbest fucking thing you've ever said to me and you know it."

Dean laughed despite himself. "Yeah, I know. Shit. Remind me how cute my niece is?"

"From the pictures I've seen, I can verify that she is ridiculously cute. Absurdly adorable. Kawaii to the nth degree."

"And I haven't seen Sam or Jess in years."

"So I'm told. Also, you want to show me off."

"I do, yeah. Did I ever tell you Sam was the one who lent me your first novel? He wouldn't shut up about it, said you were a 'major new talent in dark fantasy' or something blurby like that. Then I flipped to the author photo in the back and that was all she wrote. All you wrote, I guess."

"You have told me, yes, more than once." Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean, whose face had softened into a beatific smile. "Is that Xanax finally kicking in?"

"Does being on Xanax made you feel like the whole world's sunshine and rainbows and Seven of Nine in her underwear?"

"Could be. That sounds somewhat alarming."

"Nah, it's great. Everything's melty and nice. Wanna make out while we take off?"

Cas looked across the aisle: the passengers on the other side were either well on their way to asleep or already plugged into their devices. He grinned and pulled Dean towards him, kissed him into the sky.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotta gratuitous cute-baby description in this one, let me tell you. I must be ovulating.

Dean succumbed to the Xanax ten minutes into the flight, and slept heavily on Cas's shoulder across the entire western half of the country. And Cas let him, because despite the drool, Dean was adorable zonked on sedatives, making little snuffling noises into Cas's neck and getting inappropriately handsy (Cas had to gently remove Dean's hand from his crotch more than once). Dean woke with a start when they landed, groaned when he saw the damp spot on Cas's shirt. "Shit, babe, I'm sorry. You should've moved me off."

"And I would have, if it bothered me. I've had your spit on my chest a few times, Dean, don't worry about it."

Dean blushed and wiped the corner of his mouth. "Are we here?"

"Just touched down in Oakland. We made it in one piece."

"Don't patronize me, dude." Dean sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "OK, you ready to meet the only family I've got?"

"Absolutely. Well. Nervous as hell, actually." Cas had never met a significant other's relatives before, not exactly. He'd known Daphne's bigoted, overbearing parents since childhood, but he'd never been presented as a romantic interest until they were already engaged. This felt like it should be straightforward—they were just people, after all, and he'd already enjoyed hanging out with Dean's friends—but it wasn't.

"Ha, I knew it. You don't have to be stoic for me all the time, Cas. You're allowed to have feelings too, just cause I'm flailing over here doesn't mean I don't want you to tell me when you're freaked out."

"I'm not freaked out, really. It's just—it's a big step, somehow. Even at our age, meeting the family still feels momentous."

"I know. I'm glad you're here, though," said Dean, punctuating his words with a soft kiss. "Probably I'm still stoned, though, cause I'm not nervous at all, they're gonna love you. I'll shoot 'em a text that we've landed."

They went through the usual airport ordeal: the plane sat twenty minutes waiting for the gate to clear, Dean got clocked in the head by someone pulling out their carry-on too fast, everyone ahead of them in the aisle moved like molasses up a hill. But they persevered, and eventually, haggard but cheerful, they made it to the waiting area, where Dean spotted his brother's shaggy head towering over the throng. 

"Sammy!" he bellowed. "We're here!"

Sam waved and moved swiftly to meet them, engulfing Dean in a bear hug before turning to Cas with a huge grin. “I can’t believe I’m meeting _the_ Castiel Novak. I practiced this, you know, had all sort of smart things to say, but I forgot ‘em. Big fan. Did Dean tell you I’m the one who made him read your first book?”

Cas laughed, glancing quickly at Dean. “Yes, he mentioned it. I don’t have anything smart to say either, don’t worry. Nice to meet you.”

Sam’s tall, blonde wife caught up with them, four-month-old Emma on her shoulder and a laden tote bag on the other. “I’m sorry, _someone_ decided I could handle all the baby crap at once. I’m Jess! Can I call you Cas?”

“If you’d like. And this must be Emma?” 

Emma regarded him solemnly from her mother’s arms, plump and adorable in a Wonder Woman onesie. He wasn't sure whether to go for a handshake or a hug, but Jess quickly handed off the baby to Dean and came at him with open arms. "Uhm, hello," he said when she released him.

"Augh, sorry, probably crushed your ribs," she said, still grinning. "We're just so dang glad to see you! I mean, Sam's nerdery aside, it's so good to know Dean's happy. He deserves some happiness, you know?"

"I do what I can," he said awkwardly, looking at Dean, who had an armful of infant and was gazing down at her with equal parts awe and terror.

Dean caught him staring and called him over. "C'mere, Cas, this little critter is awesome. Aren't you?" Emma gurgled and kicked, gummy mouth wide in an approximation of a smile. “Do you wanna hold her?” Dean asked.

“Later, when I’m sitting down.” Instead, Cas offered her a finger, which she seized and immediately stuck in her mouth; a tiny frown creased her brow when he gently removed it.

“Sorry, little one, that’s mine,” he said. He reached out to stroke her sparse golden hair; her head was so warm beneath his palm.

“You guys are sooooo cute,” Jess cooed. “You should have a baby, like, yesterday.”

“Whoa, what?” said Dean, blushing furiously. “Jess, come on. Cas hasn’t even moved in yet.”

“But he will. And then Kansas’ll get marriage equality, and I’ll help plan your wedding, and then you’ll find a nice lady to make you a perfect little cousin for Emma to play with. Mark my words.”

Cas had no idea how to respond to this, so he simply adopted a deer-in-the-headlights strategy, freezing with his hand on the small of Dean’s back.

“Jess.” Sam patted her arm. “You’re scaring them. Give a chance to settle in. Plus,” he said with a wry smile, “you think she’s cute now, but wait’ll you see her screaming bloody murder because we won’t let her eat my phone.”

“I can’t help it, Sam. You two are just so in love, it’s ridiculous.”

“Uh,” said Dean. “Thanks?” He hadn’t really moved either, except for rocking Emma softly, almost unconsciously.

“Yes,” said Cas finally. “We’re in love, but we’ve also been traveling all day, so I’d like to table the notion of our possibly reproducing and get out of this airport.”

“Yes. Oops. Sorry,” said Jess. “Want me to take her, Dean?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. I’ve got bags and stuff. We, uh, brought her a present.”

“Can’t wait to see it. Sam, take one of their bags or something. Wait, take this first,” she said, shoving her tote into his arms and reaching for Emma. Sam shrugged and shouldered Cas’s laptop bag as well; Cas wound that arm around Dean instead, left it there on the way to the car.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just plotless slice-of-life, and Mushy Future Talk. **Some mention of Dean's mental illness and its consequences--watch your triggers, darlings!**

They didn't make it back to Jess and Sam's place till around eight, so the latter gave Emma her bath and put her to bed while Jess called for Thai takeout and showed Dean and Cas to the guest room, such as it was. "It's really the office, sort of," she said apologetically. "It's supposed to be, while I'm working from home, but I spend a lot more time on the couch. Don't tell the IRS."

Half the available space was taken up by a queen-size air mattress, made up with sheets Dean recognized from Sam's college days. "Your family seems determined to make me sleep on the floor," Cas grumbled quietly while Jess went to another room to call in their orders (shrimp pad Thai for Dean, Lao-style larb for Cas).

"It's only for a few nights, baby. And what, you'd rather be in a real bed alone?" Dean shot him a saucy grin.

"Dean, there's no way this thing won't squeak and/or explode if we try to fuck on it. Not to mention you are very, very bad at being quiet."

Dean shrugged. "We'll figure something out, I'm sure."

Jess poked her head back in. "Dinner in half an hour. Oh, also, sorry the bed's not really up to boning, it's all we've got. We're planning to put you up in a hotel near the airport the night before you leave, since we know you don't get a lot of quality time together. Yet." She gave them a Significant Look and left again.

"Your sister-in-law is apparently psychic," said Cas after a moment. "Were you aware of that?"

"Doesn't surprise me," Dean said. "She's way too good for Sammy, I've known that for ten years."

The apartment was cute but small, in the way of city living, and so they ate in the living room, containers on their knees. Jess continued to pepper them with questions through mouthfuls of noodles; Sam pretended to rein her in but was clearly just as curious. "Are you writing, Cas?" he blurted finally, cutting off Jess's attempts to discuss theoretical shared-apartment decor. "Shit, of course you're writing...can you talk about what?"

"Uh, I'm working on a new novel, but it's pretty inchoate right now? Going half a dozen directions at once. That's how I work, really."

"Huh, fascinating. I mean, not to you, probably, I'll bet you're tired of process questions. Promise I won't ask where you get your ideas."

Cas laughed. "Good, because I don't know."

After dinner, having discovered neither Cas nor Dean had seen any _Orphan Black,_ Sam insisted on a "marathon" that ended up lasting one and a half episodes before their hosts could no longer keep their eyes open. "Ugh, sorry," said Jess with a yawn. "Sleep schedule's still shot to pieces, because baby. But she's supposed to start making it through the night any day now, so fingers crossed."

Dean had relaxed into Cas on the sofa, head on his shoulder while Cas ran teasing fingers over the nape of his neck. Actually, he was less than fully conscious himself, though he hadn't realized it until he saw Sam start to drift off. "It's fine, guys," he said. "Traveling always tires me out too—post-flying adrenaline wears off, boom. We'll pick it up tomorrow. You're taking the day off, right?"

Sam nodded. "Jess'll probably put in a few hours in the morning, but we won't tell her bosses she's doing it with the TV on."

Undressed for bed, Dean curled around Cas, the buoyant mattress groaning while they shifted into comfortable positions. "Do you like them?" he whispered.

"They're great," Cas answered. "Though Jess seems rather invested in a picket-fence future for us. But I think she just wants to see you happy."

"I am happy," said Dean, kissing the back of his neck. "With you."

"Likewise." Cas pressed back into him, molding his spine to the planes of Dean's torso.

Dean buried his nose in Cas's hair, the thought that had been nagging at him for hours refusing to depart. He should probably just leave it alone—taking it slow, always taking it slow—but he'd been mulling it over since Jess's declaration at the airport, so—"Hey. Babe. Do you want kids? Sometime, I mean, not tomorrow or anything."

Cas was quiet, turned over to face him. "I've honestly never thought about it that much before, Dean. I haven't had many relationships where it even seemed like a distant possibility. But with you? A lot seems possible that didn't before. Why, do you?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "I like kids. I think I'm pretty good with 'em, even—uh, when I lived with Lisa, her son looked up to me like goddamn Superman or someone, and I loved it. Loved being a dad. Until I fucked things all to hell, of course. I just...I can't risk passing on my genes, Cas. They're such a mess, if I—if I had a kid and they had this same shit? What if it wasn't caught in time? What if they killed themselves, and it was all my fault?"

Dammit, he was crying. Not much, but enough that Cas could see the dim light from the street outside glinting off his tears, and he reached to gather them up, gently stroking Dean's face. "It's all right, love," he said. "You don't have to do that, have a biological child. You could—we could, after a while, we could adopt."

"I want a kid with your eyes, though," said Dean. "Not enough blue eyes in the world. None like yours." He brushed a finger over Cas's eyelashes, touched the petal-soft corner of one eye. "Don't want 'em to die out."

Cas grinned in the shadows and leaned over to catch Dean's lower lip between both of his. They kissed softly, legs tangling, until Cas pulled away with a tiny nip at Dean's mouth. "There's options," he said. "We can work with that when the time comes, if it comes." He sighed. _"When._ Seeing you hold Emma, Dean—yes, I'd like to raise a child with you."

"Stop it," said Dean, "you're being perfect again."

"Sorry," Cas said with a laugh. "Go to sleep, Dean."

Dean rolled over so that he was the little spoon, Cas's knees tucked behind his and one hand splayed on his stomach. 

Of course, at four a.m. when Emma started wailing in the next room, her little lungs powerful as an air-raid siren, Dean decided further consideration was required.


	6. Chapter 6

They spent two days straight in the apartment, ordering takeout, binge-watching British TV, and cooing more high-pitched nonsense at the baby than Cas would ever have believed himself capable of. Sam blushed as he asked Cas to inscribe a stack of dog-eared copies of his novels; Jess toned down the happily-ever-after rhetoric, although she did get misty-eyed when Dean dozed off on Cas's shoulder while holding Emma. All in all, it was strangely easy for Cas to be there, part of this warm, loyal family. It wasn't something he'd ever had, and he was glad Dean did; like Cas's love, it couldn't fix him, but it sure as hell couldn't hurt.

"Are you bored?" Dean asked him the morning of the third day, while they got dressed in the guest room. "Should we go out and do something?"

"Like what?" said Cas. "Wait, don't put your pants on yet." He stuck one hand up the leg of Dean's boxers to give his ass a thorough grope, nuzzling the back of his neck. "Can I blow you tonight? Up against the wall, so the mattress doesn't squeak?"

"Uh. Yeah, okay." Dean turned around and kissed him. "But seriously, all we've been doing is hanging out here. And I love it, but you just met these people. I'll understand if you need a breather from Winchester Family Time."

"Dean." Cas kissed him on the nose, and the way Dean's face crinkled up in distaste was so cute he had to do it again. "We came here to see your family, not the city. We can look around, see if there's something worth leaving the house for, but otherwise? I'm just fine right here."

"OK, if you're sure. We should ask Sam and Jess, though—I mean, Bay Area's gotta have better stuff to do than KC, right?"

Neither of them had any immediate ideas, however. "I don't think we've been out for fun since—November, maybe?" said Sam. "Definitely not since Emma was born. I mean, there are baby-friendly bars in this neighborhood, but that's a little too hipster for us."

"Oh, wait, I know!" Jess said suddenly, jostling Emma at her breast when she turned to Dean excitedly. "You should go to that Shipwreck thing tonight! You're book people, you'll love it!"

"Shipwreck?" said Cas. It rang a bell somehow.

"Yeah! There's this bookstore in San Francisco, they do it every month—invite a bunch of authors to write dirty fanfic about classic books. Like _Moby-Dick_ or _The Great Gatsby._ And then they all read them aloud, and the filthiest wins. Last time I followed along on Twitter, I woke up Emma' cause I couldn't stop laughing. It's perfect, I insist you go."

"Twitter, yes! That's where I know it from. It is perfect, Dean—I think this month is Narnia. Can we go? Please?" He drew out the word into a wheedle.

"Well, if you're gonna bat your eyes at me like that, I don't see how I have a choice," said Dean, reaching over to muss his hair. “Ugh, does that mean we have to borrow the minivan?”

“Shut up, Dean, wait till you have kids.” 

“Sammy, you've got one kid, she could fit in one of those rolly suitcases, you don't need that much room.”

“Take it or leave it, guys.”

They took it, of course. The store was already hopping when they got there, and they headed straight for the open bar, thus to fortify themselves for the prospect of childhood-ruining Aslan sex. The skinny kid manning the bar almost dropped a full bottle of wine at their approach. "Shit," he said. "You're you! You're Castiel Novak!"

Oh, that's right, authors got recognized in bookstores. "Yes," said Cas. "I'm me," and when the boy's eyes flickered to Dean, he added, "and this is my partner, Dean." He put his hand on the small of Dean's back, gently stroked the dip of his spine.

"Alfie," the kid said. "Wow, you guys are a lot of hot for one relationship. Oh my God, forget I said that, can I get you guys a beer? On me! Writers drink free."

"Uh," said Dean, who seemed unsure whether to shake the kid's hand or flee. "I'm not a writer, though."

"He runs a bookstore," said Cas when Dean clammed up. "In Kansas City."

"Shit!" Alfie exclaimed. "Author-bookseller power couple, that is fucking perfect! Let me—can I please take a pic of you two for the store Tumblr? We can plug your store and everything, Dean."

"It's okay with me," Cas said. "Dean?"

"Sure. Free publicity, I guess." They posed while Alfie snapped a picture with his phone, Cas's arm around Dean's waist, Dean slipping his own over his opposite shoulder. Dean jotted down his info, and then they finally collected their drinks—"Booksellers drink free too, obviously"—and went to find a seat.

"That was weird," Dean said. "Does that happen to you a lot?"

"I am somewhat famous in very specific contexts, yes. Does that bother you?"

"Not much. I felt a little like arm candy, but I think I like the Internet knowing you're taken."

"Taken, given, held," said Cas, and stopped them right there to kiss Dean fervently on the mouth. Behind them, they heard Alfie squeak.

*******

Cas couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so hard, or cringed so mightily (turned out even the Wardrobe got laid). Or drunk so much—Alfie kept pressing beers on him unbidden, and by the end of the night he was at least two sheets to the wind. Dean, who'd quit after one so he could drive home, was thoroughly amused. 

Especially because Cas was a handsy drunk—not a groper, really, but he couldn't stop touching Dean, running fingers through his hair, petting the soft skin on the inside of Dean's wrist. He wiggled one hand into Dean's back pocket while they walked back to the car, and he crowded Dean up against the passenger door, pressing their hips together and licking up his neck. "I wanna blow you on the way home," he said, and bit at the corner of his jaw.

"Nope," said Dean. "Not gonna crash Sam's car ‘cause I was getting road head. Be patient, baby."

"But it's an hour," Cas whined. "A whole hour where your cock's not in my mouth."

"I know, baby, I know, I want it too. But we gotta wait."

Cas pouted for the first ten minutes of the drive, and then fell into a shallow doze; Dean had to shake him when they arrived, but his touch on Cas's shoulder was enough to get him going again. He found half a dozen good spots on their way through the darkened apartment to push Dean up against furniture and grind their hips together; by the time they made it into the guest room they were both hard and panting, and a button flew off Cas's shirt when Dean took it off.

"Baby, hey, I want you too," said Dean as Cas shoved him into the back of the door and dropped to his knees. "Sixty-nine?"

"Where, on the floor?" Cas had Dean's pants around his ankles, leaned in to kiss the inside of his thigh.

"On the mattress, come on. I can be quiet with my mouth full."

As if Cas could refuse that offer. They tumbled onto the bed, Dean flat on his back; Cas straddled Dean's head, knees bumping his shoulders, and Dean pulled him down by his ass cheeks, slipping his tongue between them.

"Fuck," Cas said, and moved quickly to get Dean's cock in his mouth to muffle his groans. It was always overwhelming, sucking and being sucked at once; Dean's mouth, warm and wet, working him over expertly, his rising moans throbbing through Cas's own cock--it drove him wild, and he tightened his grip on Dean's hips, moved his head faster. When Dean started to thrust, muscles straining beneath Cas's hands, he pulled off to say, "Come on me, Dean, I want it," and stroked him once, twice, three times before Dean seized up and came, hot and sticky over Cas's lips and chin.

Dean heaved Cas's hips up and over, flipped him on his back to swallow him again; Cas came down his throat, biting at his forearm to keep from crying out. He whimpered as Dean crawled up beside him, started licking his own come off Cas’s face. "Fuck, you’re just full of good ideas tonight," he said.

"Mmm, thanks. Nothin' like erotic Narnia to get my engine revving."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Shipwreck](http://shipwrecksf.tumblr.com/about) is real, held first Thursdays at SF's The Booksmith, and it is fiercely funny shit, even just eavesdropping on Twitter.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean woke up with an aching back and tailbone, a sure sign that he was getting too old to sixty-nine on an air mattress. He turned over to wake up Cas and whine about his lost youth, expecting the squeak he'd been putting up with all week. Instead, he heard the thump of his hipbone connecting with hardwood, and he realized the situation was worse than he'd thought. "Babe," he muttered, shaking Cas, "I think we broke the bed."

Cas let out a long, protesting groan and tried to snuggle further into the pillow, instead cracking his head on the floor. "Ow! Fuck." He sat up, rubbing his skull. "Dean? I think we broke the bed."

"That's what I just said, doofus." Hauling himself up to a crouch, Dean ran his hands over the limp ruin of the mattress until he found a sizable gap in one seam. "Shit, I don't know if this is fixable."

"Let me feel," said Cas, leaning over with a frown, and Dean stifled a laugh. "What?"

"Can't wait to get your fingers in my hole, huh?" Dean said, and ducked as Cas aimed a swat at the back of his head. "Sorry, sorry. You're just so fucking cute when you don't wanna be awake. All bedheaded and scowly, like a grumpy owl."

"Glad I amuse you." Cas yawned and stretched, and Dean thought, _Owl? No, definitely kitten._ "Give me my phone, I'll just order them a new one."

"Because I'm an entire foot closer to it than you are."

"Maybe I just want to watch your ass sway while you walk across the room."

"Hmph," said Dean, but he went anyway, because he kind of loved it when Cas stared at his ass. He tossed Cas his phone and noticed a text alert on his own from Charlie.

**Hey, boss? Did you know you're blowing up on Tumblr?**

_What the hell does that mean?_ he texted back. Charlie handled all the social media for the store—it wasn't that he couldn’t have figured it out, he wasn't that old, it was simply intimidating, Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and whatever else there was he hadn't heard of yet. (Maybe he was that old.) So he left it to her to post book recs and photos from events. Last he heard, their following was respectable, but nothing to write home about.

Charlie's response was a bit alarming. **DUDE. CALL ME.**

And she picked up on the first ring. "What's going on?" Dean asked. "Everything OK?"

"Oh yeah, totes! It's just—you guys went out last night?"

"And you know this why?"

"Because, Dean, the Booksmith posted a pic of you two all lovey-dovey, and it got picked up by that hot-nerd blog for obvious reasons. And the store's got, like, a hundred new followers, and it's all cause they wanna bang you. Or, you know, watch you and Cas go at it in scandalous detail."

"Huh," said Dean, and then said it again. "Lemme get this straight—there are strangers on the Internet talking about my sex life? I have no clue how I’m supposed to react to that." 

"I couldn't tell ya," she said. "Give Cumberbatch a call, I guess. I mean, Cas has a lot of fans online, he’s an attractive dude. And you, objectively? Were I not gay, I would take you in a womanly fashion."

"Uh, thank you," said Dean. "I'll remember that at your next performance review."

"Look, this isn't a bad thing, Dean! Might even be good for business, right? Why order off boring ol' Amazon when you can buy from Cas Novak's hot boyfriend?"

"Yeah, I guess. As long as they're not expecting a dick pic with purchase."

"Who on earth are you talking to?" asked Cas with raised eyebrows.

"Charlie," Dean said to Cas, and to the phone, "Charlie? If everything else is fine, I need to go get coffee and process."

"And tell your brother we broke the bed," Cas added. Dean cringed as he hung up.

"Any chance you could do it? Pretty pretty please with a blowjob on top?"

Cas shook his head. "I was perfectly happy to suck you off up against the wall, Dean. I ordered a new one, it'll be here next week, but the explanation is on you...after you tell me what the hell Charlie was talking about."

*******

Sam informed them over awkward breakfast that they'd not only busted the mattress but woken him with their shenanigans—"Nothing like realizing what I thought was my daughter crying was _my brother coming"_ —but once they’d done an appropriate amount of groveling, their last day in California was good. Great, even. True to their word, Jess and Sam had gotten them a hotel room near the airport, where Dean happily climbed atop Cas on the king-size bed and rode him loud and hard.

"You know what I'm looking forward to in a couple of months?" Cas said into Dean's hair when it was over.

Dean dismounted, still panting, and laid down along his side. "What?"

"The lack of urgency," said Cas. "Now, I can't keep my hands off you because there's another deadline, we go back home tomorrow, and I want all of you I can have while I can. But then—I'll get to see you daily, and I won't have to have sex with you every day, because the days will keep happening, and I’ll get to touch you on all of them." Cas was running his hand up Dean's back and down again. It was making him sleepy.

"You're looking forward to having less sex," Dean said.

"I'm looking forward to its being optional."

Dean really needed to hit the shower before he fell asleep, but for the moment he just snuggled closer. "I know exactly what you mean," he murmured, and kissed the underside of Cas's jaw.


End file.
